Veritas
by marinawings
Summary: Peter and Gabriel/Sylar escape from Pinehearst together. Angela sends them an unlikedly bodyguard--Phoebe Agnew, who can both discern truth and reveal it.
1. Calling

This story is a bit on the AU side, running on the premise that Gabriel/Sylar escapes with Peter from Pinehearst during Eris Quod Sum. For readers of _Storm Clouds Gathering_, don't worry. I'm not through with that one yet.

"They kept going because they were holding on to something." --Lord of the Rings

Chapter One

Gabriel Gray realized with sudden, painful clarity that he loved his brother. He glanced at Peter's sleeping form and sighed. Mere days ago, he would have scoffed at the impracticality of family love, of brotherly love. And now…

He would do anything to protect his brother.

The train car bumped and rattled over the tracks, and Gabriel worried that the jolts might awake Peter from his sleep. But they did not. That worried him, too. Peter had been hurt in the escape… Could his injuries be severe?

Gabriel frowned. How stupid of him not to think of that earlier. He studied his brother's face, noting the way Peter winced in his sleep every now and then.

"I'll take care of you, Peter," Gabriel promised.

* * *

"I'm coming!" Phoebe Agnew called as the knocking continued at her apartment door. Whoever it was, they were growing impatient. Phoebe struggled into a pair of jeans, nearly knocking a picture off the living room wall in the process. "Be there in a minute!" She jerked a soft gray shirt over her shoulders and swiftly began to button in. As soon as she was decent, she ran to the door and peered through the peephole. A man and a woman were standing in the hallway. She did not recognize either of them.

Keeping the chain lock in place, Phoebe opened her door slightly. "Yes? What is it?"

"My name is Matt Parkman," said the man. He had honest eyes, and Phoebe could taste the truth in his voice. "I'm here with a message for you."

"Come in," Phoebe said warmly, sliding open the chain lock and pulling back the door. Matt walked into the apartment, followed by a small, quirky blonde.

"Daphne," said the blonde quickly, not even looking at Phoebe. Her eyes were roaming the apartment. "Nice digs. You must read a lot."

"I do," said Phoebe, shutting the door gently behind her guests. She brushed a strand of strawberry blond hair over her shoulder. "So… What's my message?" For some reason, Daphne's presence made her nervous. There was a shadow of deception there… Phoebe shrugged off the worry. Maybe Daphne wasn't a natural blonde or something.

"You work with Primatech, don't you?" Matt asked, studying her closely.

"I did some freelance work for them." She smiled slowly. "And you could tell if I was lying, couldn't you? You're a mind reader, right?"

Matt blinked. "Well… yeah. How did you know?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Truth likes me. Sometimes it lets me know where it lies." She grinned at her own pun.

So did Matt. "Truth lies… That's pretty good."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You people are slow. Come on, Matt. Give her the message."

"Angela Petrelli is in serious trouble," said Matt, running a hand through his dark hair. His eyebrows raised, shifting his open face into an expression of bewilderment. "I don't know what's going on, but everything has changed. I didn't trust her before. I still don't, but…" He sighed and met Phoebe's eyes. "She needs help. And she asked for you."

"For me?" It was Phoebe's turn to raise eyebrows. "I haven't spoken to her in months. What's going on?"

"She's in a coma," Matt said. "And her kids are in some weird situations."

"Her kids?" Phoebe crossed her arms. "You mean the Petrelli boys?"

"Yes…" Matt shook his head as if in wonder. "All three of them."

"All three of them?" This was getting stranger and stranger. "I thought she only had two--Peter and Nathan."

"Well there are three," Daphne cut in. "Gabriel Gray--formerly know as Sylar--is Petrelli brother number three. Well, technically number two if you're looking at things chronologically."

"And they're in trouble, allof them, from what I gathered," said Matt.

"Doesn't surprise me," said Phoebe, shaking her head. "There's a wicked stubborn streak running through that family."

"Yeah, and those guys get it honest," said Matt. "Their dad's still alive."

Phoebe's green eyes widened, and her voice came out breathless. "_What_?"

"Arthur Petrelli is alive," Daphne explained. "He's been alive the whole time. And he's trying to either take out or manipulate each of his sons."

There was truth in that statement, but there was something untruthful behind Daphne's eyes. Phoebe studied the other girl closely.

Daphne looked away from Phoebe nervously. "So… Can we get to Primatech now?"

* * *

The train was picking up speed.

Gabriel was trying not to fall asleep. He glanced once again at Peter, frowning worriedly. In the scuffle caused by their escaped, Peter had been flung roughly into a wall by a telekinetic guard, then smacked around quite a bit by a guard with a nightstick. Despite this, Peter had fought valiantly for his freedom. Before falling asleep in the baggage car, he had groggily told Gabriel, "I'm not going to just sit around and do nothing. I won't be worthless. If all I can do is take punches to buy time for somebody else to use their power, then that's what I'll do."

Gabriel believed him. It was in Peter's blood to be a fighter. Glancing down at his wrists, Gabriel reflected that it was in _his _blood, as well, his blood that was the same as Peter's… except that now, Peter's blood was powerless.

"What time is it?"

Gabriel glanced at Peter, who was sitting up with a grimace. "It's time for you to go back to sleep," he said firmly. "You're injured. You need rest."

"No I don't," said Peter with an insolent shake of his head. "I can heal. I--" He winced. "Oh crap. I forgot about that…" He drew in a harsh breath between his teeth and eased himself back down on the blankets. "Where are we?" he asked quietly, staring up at the ceiling of the boxcar.

"We're in baggage car number 11 of the Westbrook Rails' train from New York City to Westbrook, Maryland," said Gabriel matter-of-factly.

"I know that," Peter replied impatiently, turning his head to look his brother in the eyes. "I mean, how close are we?"

"Still hours away," said Gabriel. He frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"Not that great, to tell the truth," said Peter. "It's so _frustrating. _I'm not used to this--this--"

"Mortality?" Gabriel suggested.

"That's it. That's exactly it," said Peter. "I'm not used to this mortality anymore. I felt pain even when I had my powers, but it always went away." He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Peter, if you want, I can take you to a hospital," Gabriel suggested, wishing Peter would agree, yet knowing he wouldn't.

"No," said Peter firmly, keeping his eyes closed. "It's just a few bruises. I'm fine."

"Just a few bruises?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Just a few broken ribs and a minor concussion is more like it."

Peter opened his eyes and glared at Gabriel for a few moments, then sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. "You're right. I am a little banged up."

"A little? Peter--"

"It doesn't _matter_, Gabriel," said Peter intensely. "What matters is that we find a way to stop--to stop our dad from destroying the world."

"You know… That is so like you, Peter," said Gabriel, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "I expected you to say something like that."

Peter grinned crookedly. "Get used to it."

* * *

"Angela?" Phoebe winced at the sight of her former boss. Angela Petrelli looked terrible, which was all the more shocking considering how much she cared about her appearance. "Angela, I know you can hear me. I'm here." She crossed the room and sat in the chair beside the older woman's bedside. "Matt Parkman says you need my help." She glanced over her shoulder at Matt, who stood in the doorway, shadowed by Daphne. "So… I'm here to help."

Gently, she reached out and took Angela's hand. "Show me the truth," she whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Show me what you want me to do."

And the truth came, images and words flashing into Phoebe's brain. Some of the truth was harsh and made Phoebe gasp. Some of it made her curious. Then Angela revealed her mission to her.

Phoebe frowned, her green eyes remaining closed. "Bodyguard? Me? A _bodyguard_?" she exclaimed aloud.

Then Angela silently impressed upon her the urgency of the situation, and Phoebe felt strongly that the urgency was real, was true.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why me?"

But Angela drew away then, and Phoebe opened her eyes and gently let go of the other woman's hand.

"So… What did she say?" Daphne asked from the doorway.

Phoebe glanced at the other girl, and a strong sense of deception and confusion came to her. She slowly shook her head. "It's a bit personal. All you have to know is that I have a mission."

"To be a bodyguard?" Matt asked incredulously.

"So it would seem," said Phoebe, standing and brushing off her jeans. She avoided Daphne's curious gaze and focused instead on Matt. "I'm going to be leaving soon, so… I'll give you guys my cell phone number, and we can stay in touch."

"Alright," said Matt with a friendly nod. "Just let us know if you need any help."

Phoebe glanced back at Angela, then, wondering at the woman's confidence at her. When she turned back to Matt and Daphne, she noticed that Daphne's eyes had also gone to Angela--and Matt's eyes were on Daphne. The truth hit her powerfully: _Matt is in love with Daphne, and Daphne has a lot to hide._

* * *

Peter woke up in dim light, shivering from cold, his body aching from the beating he had received escaping his father's facility. His father…He sat up gingerly, drawing a blanket tightly around his shoulders. Everything was changing so quickly. The family he had once known was gone. In its place was a complicated mess. He glanced over at Gabriel, resisting the urge to think of the other man as Sylar. Gabriel was sleeping in the corner of the boxcar, sitting up against the wall.

Peter sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his rumpled dark hair. Everything was changing. He was beginning to like having Gabriel as a brother…

A sudden urge to cough raked at his lungs, and he tried to suppress it, not wanting to wake his brother. His brother… He had to smile at that. He never would have expected--The cough ripped out of him as soon as he stopped concentrating on stifling it. His lungs convulsed within his battered ribcage, sending sharp jolts of pain through his body with each breath and each cough.

"Peter, are you okay?"

Peter looked up with pain-blurred vision at Gabriel, who had crawled across the floor to his side. The younger brother's eyes widened. It was just so strange to see Sylar looking at him with concern. He tried to laugh, which made the coughing even worse. "I'm fine. I'm fine," he choked out, one hand covering his mouth while the other clutched at his ribs.

"You're a terrible liar," Gabriel remarked, his dark eyes round with worry.

Peter had to nod at that, rolling his eyes at his own self. Finally, the violent coughing ceased, and he sat doubled over on the floor of the boxcar, dragging in breaths with effort.

"Peter, do you need--" Gabriel reached out to touch him.

Peter held up a hand. "Just… Just let me breathe," he panted, feeling a sudden, panicky need to retain independence. He was a grown man, after all. He had saved the world a few times. He could handle a few cracked ribs. And anyway, his father had told him that his body was weakened from having his powers ripped away from it. Surely that was temporary. He would get over it.

"Alright, Peter," said Gabriel with reluctance in his voice, withdrawing his outstretched hand. "But… Maybe there's something I can do."

"No." Peter shook his head. "You don't have a healing power. Just--just… wait. I'll be fine once I get over this."

They both sat there in stillness for a moment, Peter breathing raggedly, while Gabriel watched tensely, as if he were using all of his self-control to keep from doing something, anything to ease his brother's pain.

The strangeness of it made Peter's head spin. Or was that the light concussion? Finally, the raging pain in his chest eased, and Peter breathed a heavy sigh and laid down on the blankets.

"Good-night, Peter," said Gabriel quietly.

Peter started to protest, started to say that he was not falling asleep, that he would stay up and keep watch, but he was too busy slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Phoebe! Hello! Never thought I'd see you here again."

Phoebe turned around quickly, her blond hair swinging around her shoulders. "Noah! How have you been?"

Noah Bennet approached her with a wry smile. "Tolerably well. You know, the usual…"

"Baggin' and taggin' us advanced humans, huh?" Phoebe asked with a raised eyebrow.

Noah shrugged. "Something like that. What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing a favor for Angela," Phoebe explained. "She let me out of this place with my life and my sanity, so… I owe her."

"Does this have anything to do with her sons?" Noah asked, narrowed his eyes on her.

Phoebe tilted her head to one side to study him. "You wouldn't dare tell Arthur Petrelli, would you?"

Noah sighed. "No. Of course not. And I know you can tell that that's the truth."

Phoebe nodded slowly. "It's the truth. And that means I can tell you what's going on. Angela is sending me to some little town called Westbrook, Maryland to meet up with Peter and Gabriel. I'm supposed to be their bodyguard, for some odd reason. She said for me to keep them safe in Westbrook while awaiting further instructions."

"You know who Gabriel was, of course?" Noah asked, his forehead creased with worry lines.

Phoebe nodded. "He was Sylar."


	2. Goodbye, Hello

Thanks so much to everyone who reads and everyone who both reads and reviews! I always enjoy feedback from readers, and I got some awesome feedback on chapter one, which encouraged me to definitely keep going with this story.

Chapter Two

Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at the suitcases in the backseat of the car the Company had provided. They were striped blue and green, of course--her favorite colors. She was sure that every article of clothing in the bags was suited to her taste, to her style. Of course.

She turned to face forward, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. So here she was, back with the Primatech people. Fantastic.

There was a sudden tap on her window, and Phoebe jumped. She sighed with relief to see Matt Parkman bending down to look inside the car. Phoebe quickly rolled down the window. "What is it?"

"I brought you something I thought you might need," said Matt. He glanced over his shoulder, a conspirator's look on his face.

"What is it?" Phoebe asked curiously.

"Here." Matt reached into the car and pressed something cold and heavy into Phoebe's hand.

A gun.

"Uhm… Thanks," said Phoebe, looking down at the weapon, then back up at Matt. She was sure there was already one in her bag, but… She certainly appreciated the gesture. Slipping the gun into the glove compartment, she smiled warmly at Matt. "Thanks a lot. It's nice to know that someone cares."Matt grinned back at her. "I do care. You seem like a nice girl. And Peter… Peter is a great guy."

They were both quiet for a moment, and neither of them had to state the obvious--that they were both unsure of Gabriel Gray… Gabriel Petrelli.

"Well, best of luck to you," said Matt, backing away from the car and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Thanks. You, too." _I mean it, Matt. _Phoebe shifted the gear stick into reverse and looked over her shoulder, pressing her foot to the gas pedal. _Best of luck to you… Especially with Daphne. I wish she would get over whatever it is that's bothering her, whatever it is that she's lying about…_

* * *

The inside of the train car was becoming stifling. Gabriel paced.

At the forefront of his memory was his last communication with his mother, a communication that had taken place in his dreams. She had impressed upon him the importance of getting to Westbrook, the importance of meeting someone there. She had not said whom they were to meet. He glanced at Peter, who slept fitfully wrapped in blankets. He hoped whoever it was could heal others…

Peter's eyes opened then, as if he had sensed his brother's gaze. "My turn to keep watch," he muttered, sitting up slowly. He turned his face from Gabriel, but it was a poor cover. Gabriel knew his brother was hurting.

"Peter, as soon as we meet whoever it is we're meeting in Maryland, we're getting you to a hospital," Gabriel insisted, ceasing his pace across the floor.

"No. I _told _you--"

"Don't argue with me, Peter. You know you need help."

Peter glared at Gabriel for a moment, lips pressed tightly together, hazel eyes narrowed. Then he burst into a fit of coughing, his eyes suddenly sheepish and pained.

"_Think_, Peter. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you to a hospital," Gabriel demanded, kneeling beside Peter with a worried heart. A heart… And here he hadn't thought he owned one of those.

Peter stopped coughing. His hands were shaking as he met Gabriel's gaze. His eyes were large, touched by fear and pain. "I think you're right," he panted. "I'm pretty messed up."

Gabriel gently patted his brother's shoulder. "Well we'll get you to a--"

The train's whistle suddenly sounded, sharp and shrill, cutting off Gabriel's words.

Peter clutched his brother's arm excitedly, convulsively. "We're almost there!" he exclaimed in a breathless voice.

Gabriel looked askance at him, taking in the paleness of his face, the feverish brightness of his eyes. _And we couldn't get there soon enough._

* * *

Nathan glanced at Tracy as he made his way outside of the Company's facility. He was impressed by her determination to go with him to Pinehearst. He had been equally impressed by her calmness when confronted by Meredith. Nathan winced inwardly. His past was coming back to haunt him in so many ways--the strange apparitions of Linderman (explained away by Matt and Daphne), then the arrival of Meredith, and now the revelation that his father was alive. It was almost too much for a man to handle without going insane.

There was suddenly a third rhythm of footsteps in the hall, and Nathan looked to his other side to see Matt walking up beside him. Before Nathan could greet his friend, Matt spoke up.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Matt said quickly, a worried look in his eyes. "You should wait."

"Arthur Petrelli is my father, Matt," said Nathan firmly.

"And Maury Parkman was mine," said Matt, his voice equally resolute. "Your father killed him. That's how powerful he is. He could kill you like that." He snapped his fingers.

"But he won't," Nathan replied assuredly. "I know it. Maybe I can talk sense into the old man."

Matt sighed agitatedly. "I don't think that's going to work. You should wait. Maybe we can all do something together, like--"

"Like storm the gates of Pinehearst with torches and pitchforks?" Nathan suggested with a raised eyebrow.

"Haha. Very funny," Matt replied dryly. "You know what I mean."

"Yes. I do. But I'm still going to do this. For one thing, this is my father we're talking about. And for another…" He sighed, and his voice tightened. "Claire's there--at Pinehearst."

"Claire's at Pinehearst?" Matt asked, eyes wide.

"Yes. So that's where we're going." Nathan turned his eyes straight ahead and lifted his chin.

Tracy spoke up then, glancing across Nathan at Matt as they walked, nearing the parked cars. "Come with us, Matt."

Matt shook his head. "I can't do that. Won't you just listen to me and _stay _and wait this out for awhile? We have to have a plan."

Nathan reached the driver's side door of his car and swiftly unlocked it. "I have to do this, Matt. I have to face him."

"And I'm going with him," Tracy said determinedly.

And with that, the two of them slid into the car. Nathan waved once to Matt, then they sped away, leaving Matt alone in the parking lot, shaking his head.

* * *

Phoebe took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking lot of Westbrook's train station. The sun was just beginning to rise over the eastern horizon, bits of its rays shattering through the weaker parts of the heavy fog that settled over the station.

Phoebe was still unsure of herself. She had no clue why Angela had chosen her as a bodyguard for Angela's sons. Her power was non-combative, passive even, and Phoebe, despite months of training in the Company, had little real experience with weapons. Briefly, her mind took her back to the day when she had decided to get out, to leave the Company for good, that day when she had been forced to use a weapon, to _hurt _someone… She shuddered, shaking off the memory, then reached into the glove compartment for the pistol Matt Parkman had given her.

Automatically, she checked the cartridge, then flipped on the safety. The cold hardness of gunmetal was familiar, recalling memories of being trained in the use of firearms by none other than Noah Bennet. She wondered momentarily what he thought of everything that was going on…

Then the whistle of a nearing train brought her distinctly back to the present. Quickly, she unbuckled and turned off the car. She opened the door and stepped out into the chilly fog, taking only the car keys and the gun. She locked the car and slipped the keys into her jacket pocket, then quickly tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, arranging her jacket so that the bulge of the weapon was hidden.

She straightened her shoulders as she faced the railroad tracks, glancing around in a manner which she hoped was inconspicuous. She could hear Noah's voice in her memory: _"Confidence is the key, Phoebe. If you act as if you believe you have everything under control, others will believe that you do. Don't sell yourself short by appearing insecure, even when you are." _

"Confidence. Composure. Got it." She waited quietly in the fog until the train came to a stop, metal wheels screeching. Looking around to make sure none of the train or station workers saw her, she began making her way alongside the tracks, peering through the fog to read the numbers on the train cars.

"…6, 7, 8..." She nearly tripped over a railroad tie. Rolling her eyes at her own clumsiness, she righted herself and continued along the tracks. "9, 10... Aha! Eleven!"

Phoebe paused for a moment before the big metal door of boxcar 11. She cast a glance to her left, then to her right. Satisfied that no one was watching (and that they probably could not see her through the fog anyway, even if they were looking), she stepped forward and placed her hand on the cold metal door handle. She placed one foot on the metal step just under the door and pulled herself up by the handle, then started to slide the door open. To her pleasant surprise, the door slid open quietly and easily.

Shivering in anticipation, she stepped into the darkness of the train car. The only sign to indicate the presence of other human beings in the car was the sound of two sets of breathing. One person's breathing was steady and calm, while the other sounded ragged and rapid.

"Hello?" Phoebe called softly into the darkness. "Gabriel Gray? Peter Petrelli?"

"We're here," came a hoarse voice from the corner to her left.

She started to move toward the corner, but stopped when the second voice hissed, "Don't tell her that! We don't know if we can trust her!"

"You can trust me," Phoebe assured them, hands going to her hips. "And I'm pretty sure at least one of you can probably shine some light in this place."

There was quiet, save for the sound of breathing.

Phoebe began to be impatient. "Angela sent me here to be your bodyguard."

"You?" came the second voice. "_You're_ the bodyguard?"

"That's me," said Phoebe, wincing. She probably sounded nothing like a bodyguard.

"We can trust her, Gabriel. I know it," came the first voice.

"No, Peter! Wait!" exclaimed the second.

There were footsteps, and suddenly, a shape appeared before Phoebe in the darkness. Her eyes were adjusting to the light, and she could just make out the slim form of a young man holding out his hand to her. She could barely make out his crooked smile in the dark, but the sight of it eased her nerves and strengthened her confidence.

"I'm Peter Petrelli," the young man said quietly.

Phoebe took his hand and shook it firmly. "Phoebe Agnew," she said warmly. By now, she could make out Peter's dark, intense eyes. "Nice to meet you."

Peter's face was pale in the dark, and he clung tightly to Phoebe's hand. He glanced over his shoulder to where a very vague dark form waited in the shadows. "It's okay, Gabriel. She's--she's--" His hand tightened convulsively on Phoebe's hand, and suddenly, his knees buckled, and he pitched forward.

"Whoa!" Phoebe exclaimed, moving quickly to catch Peter before he hit the floor of the train car. She managed to catch him, but his weight threw her off balance, and she stumbled, falling to the floor in a sitting position with her new acquaintance in her arms.

"What did you do to him?" Gabriel exclaimed, bursting from the shadows with a frightening look of rage on his face, his hands glowing and illuminating the boxcar and his anger.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything to him!" Phoebe cried frantically. "What's wrong with him? Is he okay?" She shifted her charge in her arms so that she could see his face in the pale glow of Gabriel's hands. Peter's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened as he continued to breathe heavily and with apparent effort. It was then that Phoebe saw the dark bruise on his jaw, the cut running along his cheekbone. "What _happened _to him?"

Gabriel knelt by his brother and Phoebe, his brown eyes wide with concern. "That same thing that happened to me. Only… he can't heal himself anymore, and I can."

Phoebe and Gabriel looked up from Peter's face at the same time, their eyes meeting.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Phoebe said quietly. "Just listen to the way he's breathing."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "He does need a hospital, but…" His face darkened. "Our father has spies everywhere."

Phoebe shivered involuntarily. The warmth emanating from Gabriel's hands did nothing to combat the chill that crept its way up her spine. "Look, let's just get you guys to my car, and we'll come up with something there, okay?" she suggested, the shakiness of her voice embarrassing her.

"Fine."

The light from Gabriel's hands went out, and the blackness of the train car was almost painful to Phoebe's eyes. The memory of Peter's handsome face--pale and bruised--remained imprinted on her psyche.

"Let me take him," came the gentle voice of Peter's brother.

Phoebe nodded, then, remembering that it was dark, said, "Alright. Go ahead."

Gabriel bent down and lifted Peter from Phoebe's lap. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you at first," he told her quietly.

Phoebe stood slowly, feeling a bit sore. "That's fine," she said succinctly, not really sure what else to say.

They made their way to the door of the train car, where Gabriel hesitated, glancing down at the ground, then at Peter, who hung limply in his arms.

"Do you want me to--?" Phoebe started.

"No," Gabriel cut her off sharply. "I don't need your help. I doubt you can do this." That said, he stepped back from the door--but Peter remained where he was, hovering in the air. Gabriel lifted a hand toward Peter, and the younger brother drifted out of the train car. Gabriel slowly lowered his hand, and Peter was gently lowered to the ground.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Nice."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Gabriel said. He hopped down to the ground, swiftly kneeling beside Peter. Glancing back up at Phoebe, he said solemnly, "And Peter could do even more. He could do everything."

"What happened?" Phoebe asked, frowning in curiosity.

"No time for that now." Gabriel scooped up Peter in his arms and stood. "Come on."

Phoebe jumped down out of the boxcar. The force of her landing sent a sharp pain up her right foot, and she staggered slightly, grimacing.

"And you're our _bodyguard_?" Gabriel remarked, looking at her with disdain.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her stinging foot. "That's right. I'm your bodyguard. Looks like you need a little help. I mean, with all your special powers, you weren't even able to keep Peter safe?"

That stung, Phoebe could tell, and she regretted saying it the instant the words were out of her mouth.

"I got him out of there alive," he told her, his voice lowered almost to a growl, making her remember that he this man had killed people. Lots of them. "What have you ever done? Do you even _do _anything?"

Phoebe lifted her chin, forcing herself to at least act confident. "I do. I can sense the truth. And I can reveal it to others. And right now, the truth is that we're standing here arguing while your brother needs a hospital. So I suggest you refrain from being rude to me long enough for us to save his life."

Gabriel inclined his head to her, but she fancied there was a glint of sarcasm in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Peter could feel motion. For a moment, he wondered if they were back on the train. Then he remembered the girl. He liked that memory. She was pretty, he thought, at least from what he had seen of her in the darkness of train car number 11. And she was kind. There was a warmth and compassion to her that he had needed no powers to sense. He wondered what her ability was, for surely she had an ability.

He could hear her voice right now, vaguely, as if from a distance.

"…Didn't tell me about any healers around here… Make any sense… If she knew he was injured…"

Then he heard Gabriel's voice, the voice he was coming to think of as his brother's. The thought of a brother reminded him sharply of Nathan, and he wondered where Nathan was, if Nathan was alright…

"…Wanted us to go to a hospital," came Gabriel's voice, also distant and unclear. "…Is the plan… If they say… Tell if it's truth or…"

"… Work like that… Can try, but I can't guarantee…"

"…Keep him safe at all costs…"

"…My priority, too…"

Then Peter's lungs constricted, and he coughed. And the cough sent pain stabbing through his chest and stomach. The pain sharpened his perception, and he was suddenly free from the haziness. Now he could clearly hear the voices of Phoebe and Gabriel.

"Peter, we're taking you to a hospital," Gabriel told him quietly.

Peter slowly opened his eyes. He could see that he was in the backseat of a car, and Gabriel was peering worriedly at him from the front passenger's seat. "Hospital? That's too dangerous. What if dad has spies there?"

"We've got our bodyguard, remember?" said Gabriel with a swift glance at Phoebe. "And she actually has an ability that might be helpful to us when it comes to spies."

"Shockingly," Phoebe muttered, but Peter detected a grin in her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Peter, looking at her curiously. "What can you do?"

"I have an affinity for truth," Phoebe told him.

Peter smiled, then. He thought that suited her.


	3. Restoration

A huge thank-you goes out to all my readers, reviewer, the ones who add me to their favorites lists and C2's, and those "combination thereof" people who give me the encouragement to continue writing my Heroes ideas. Especially, thanks to GreenLeoFiend and my mom for their helpful ideas and questions that inspired many of the events of this chapter.

"We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, ''Blessed are they that mourn.''"--C.S. Lewis

Chapter Three

"Matt, I need your help."

Matt Parkman turned from the window with a sigh. He had been watching Daphne, who was walking around outside with a pensive look on her face. "What is it, Noah?" he asked as the man with the horn-rimmed glasses approached him.

"There are two people I'm trying to keep an eye on," said Noah. "And unfortunately, I don't have the power to be in two places at one time. I'd like for you to keep tabs on one of them for me."

Matt raised an eyebrow. He had learned over the past few months that any simple-sounding request was really very complicated when someone from the Company was involved. "Okay… So what do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to Pinehearst," Noah said quietly. He glanced briefly over Matt's shoulder, to where Daphne still wandered around outside. "Claire has gone there with Elle Bishop. I'm going to bring her back. So I won't be able to help Phoebe if an emergency situation arises."

"Emergency situation?" Matt narrowed his eyes on Noah.

"For one thing, Phoebe's power is non-combative. For another thing… Gabriel Gray used to be Sylar."

"Yeah, but it seems to me that--"

"And thirdly, and most dangerously, Arthur Petrelli is not going to let them get away so easily." Noah placed a hand on Matt's shoulder. "I want you to do whatever it takes to help Phoebe with her job. And to keep her safe."

Matt nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll do it, but…" He concentrated his ability on Noah, zooming in on the other man's thoughts. Most of what he picked up were memories, memories of training Phoebe to be a Company agent, memories of grudgingly admiring her for getting out of the Company to ease her conscience…. Matt nodded again. "I'll do it."

* * *

"Hang in there, Peter. You're going to be alright." As Phoebe said the words, she suddenly and intensely longed for them to be true. She had one arm around Peter's waist, careful not to jostle him as she helped him out of the backseat of the Company car. As she shifted him toward the supporting arms of Gabriel, his shirt slid up slightly, revealing livid bruises running up the side of his ribcage. She drew in a sharp breath, green eyes widening.

Gabriel met her eyes then and gave her a cautioning look.

Phoebe swallowed down her anxiety and walked beside the brothers as Gabriel helped Peter along. "So… Peter… You used to be a Hospice nurse, right?"

Peter looked at her with intense dark eyes. "Yeah. That's right. I've always wanted to make a difference, you know? To do something important." His face suddenly blanched, and he stopped walking, doubling over as he began to cough.

Gabriel glanced over Peter to Phoebe, and to her surprise, helplessness was plain on his face.

Phoebe swiftly moved to Peter's side, gently placing a hand on his back. She looked ahead and saw that they were perhaps twenty yards from the hospital entrance. So near, and yet so far… "Just breathe, Peter," she told him quietly, steadily, as she lightly rubbed his back. "Breathe."

Peter glanced up at her sharply, as if hearing something he recognized. He nodded, keeping her gaze, and began to breathe deeply and rhythmically, fighting down the harsh, body-wracking coughs.

"That's it," said Phoebe, trying not to go to pieces with relief. "You're gonna make it." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriel raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her lips twitched with a slight grin. Maybe she wasn't such a useless bodyguard after all…

Peter straightened with a grimace. "I think--I think I'm okay now."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked, a touch of that uncharacteristic helplessness still shadowing his brown eyes.

Peter nodded firmly, lifting his chin. "I'm fine." He reached out suddenly, unexpectedly, and took Phoebe's hand. She almost jumped at the surprising touch, the sudden warmth of Peter's hand encompassing her own.

"Come on," said Gabriel, reasserting his hold on Peter. "Let's get you inside."

And so supported by Gabriel and clinging to Phoebe's hand, Peter Petrelli made it into the lobby of the hospital.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know who I am?" Nathan Petrelli could feel rage growing inside him, hot, smoldering rage.

The guard looked blandly down at his computer, then looked back up at Nathan and shook his head. His eyes, a pale brownish color, were blank. "Sir, you don't have an appointment with anyone on the board today, so…" He shrugged, the sluggish motion echoing his boredom with life. "I'm afraid I can't let you in."

Nathan pressed his lips tightly together, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. He felt Tracy slip a hand through his arm, which instantly cooled him down… He almost grinned at the irony of that thought.

"Isn't there a Mr. Arthur Petrelli on the board?" Tracy asked politely, smiling down on the guard as if she were bestowing a prize.

The guard looked uncomfortable, surprising Nathan with this sudden sign of humanity. "I'm not--I'm not at liberty to disclose that information to strangers."

Nathan leaned forward on the counter of the guard station. "Listen, buddy, you know darn well that Arthur Petrelli is the head of this place. Take a look at my name and a look at my face, and you'll come to realize who I am."

"Sir?" The light brown eyebrows rose as a touch of confusion reached the man's eyes.

Nathan rolled his own brown eyes. "I'm Arthur Petrelli's son. Get that? His son."

The guard's next words sent a jolt of panic and confusion through Nathan's nervous system. "He's got another one? His other two were just here a few hours ago."

* * *

"You haven't_ told_ him?" Matt stood up from the chair beside Angela Petrelli's bed and began to pace. He shook his head. "So Nathan is going into Pinehearst without even knowing that his brothers barely escaped from there with their lives? And that Gabriel--Sylar--whatever his name is--is his brother?"

Angela's mental answer was in the negative, shot through with sarcasm. _How could I have told him, Matt, when I'm lying here in a coma?_

Matt conceded. "You have a point. Now what am I supposed to do? Do I do what Noah said and keep an eye on Phoebe and your younger sons, or do I follow Noah to Pinehearst to protect your older son? Wait." He held up a hand toward Angela, even though she probably could not see it. "Don't answer that. I'm making up my own mind this time." And with that, he spun on his heels and left the room.

As soon as he had left, Daphne shot into the room, too fast for him to even notice her. She moved to stand by Angela's bed, staring down at the older woman. "So you're his wife." Her voice was quiet and pensive as she tilted her head to one side to study Angela's face. "You two made a mess of your relationship, didn't you? And maybe your family as well… I don't like him. Really, I don't. But… You've got to understand." Her voice quivered slightly. "I can't go against him. I just can't. Even if--even if Mat…" She took a deep breath and turned from Angela. "You of all people should understand. Sometimes, when the choice is between something else and the one you love…" She glanced over her shoulder at Angela. "You have to choose the something else."

* * *

Gabriel and Phoebe helped Peter onto the bed in one of the hospital's emergency rooms.

"Why do they have to put him back here at the very back of the hospital?" Gabriel complained as he gently lowered Peter down on the mattress. "Can't they see he needs help now?"

Phoebe said nothing, but she agreed with him silently. This was not right. _Something_ wasn't right… No one had even checked Peter's vitals yet. She glanced quickly to the youngest Petrelli son. He was lying quietly on his back, trying hard to breathe evenly. The quiet part scared her. She didn't think Peter was the sort of man to just sit back and relax--ever.

"Peter, are you okay?" she asked him, reaching to take his hand.

He grinned crookedly at her, raising one dark eyebrow. "Is that even a fair question? You'll know the truth whether I tell it to you or not."

"True," said Phoebe, smiling at him.

"I'm going to find a doctor," Gabriel announced suddenly. "Just--just wait here. I'm going to find a doctor." And with that, he stalked out of the room.

"Wow," said Peter quietly. "This is so strange… Not so long ago, he was trying to kill me… And now…"

"What happened, Peter?" Phoebe asked quietly, settling into the chair beside the hospital bed and keeping her grip on Peter's hand.

"He learned to control the hunger," Peter told her, his dark eyes touched by sadness. "Mom helped him. I--I know what it's like to have his power. It's not easy. You do things…" He closed his eyes, wincing.

"Just relax, Peter," Phoebe told him worriedly. "We'll get you some help."

At that moment, a doctor, tall, slim, and elderly, stumbled into the room, with Gabriel right behind him. Phoebe wondered, amused, if the doctor had been shoved.

"Find out what's wrong with him, and fix it," Gabriel ordered. "You don't have any idea who you're messing with."

"Gabriel, just chill--" Peter started.

"No, Peter. This man is going to help you," Gabriel insisted, glaring darkly at the doctor.

"I, uhm, I apologize that this young man was neglected. We're busy today, you see," the doctor stammered, moving to Peter's side. He set a large bag on the bed beside Peter. Phoebe found that oddly old-fashioned. Where was the technology in this hospital?

"So tell me what happened to you, young man," the doctor said to Peter.

"I got into a fight," said Peter vaguely.

"I can see that," said the doctor. He glanced down at Phoebe's hand, which was still linked with Peter's. "I'm afraid you'll have to let go of your boyfriend, sweetheart," he told her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh! Uhm, sorry." Phoebe slipped her hand from Peter's and moved to stand out of the doctor's way, beside Gabriel.

The doctor had pulled out a stethoscope and was gently placing the end of it against Peter's chest. "So what hurts, young man?"

"Almost everything," Peter managed. "Mostly my ribs. Hurts when I breathe. My jaw kind of hurts, too."

"Hmmm. I see…" The doctor frowned and drew back slightly from Peter. "Heart rate is too fast." He touched Peter's forehead. "Bad fever, too, I'd guess." Gently, he slid his hands down Peter's ribs, noting that Peter flinched and bit back cries of pain at the touch. "You've got a number of broken ribs. A few of them are probably putting pressure on your lungs. Coughed up any blood recently?"

"No, but I have been coughing," said Peter, breathless with pain.

"Well maybe your lungs aren't punctured, then. Let me see--"

"You're not telling us anything we don't already know," Gabriel cut in impatiently. "What kind of doctor are you anyway?"

The doctor turned and narrowed steely gray eyes on the younger man. "When you grab a random doctor out of the hallway, you don't have the option to be choosy. If you must know, I was on my way out the door. I'm tired, and I'm old, and I don't have time to be fussed at. Now look—Is this man Peter Petrelli?" He motioned to Peter.

Phoebe and Gabriel glanced at each other. Phoebe saw her shock mirrored in Gabriel's eyes.

"I'm Peter Petrelli," Peter said quietly, frowning up at the doctor.

The doctor began packing his equipment back in his bag, obviously avoiding Peter's eyes. "I have a message for you. I'm supposed to tell you that what once was lost shall be restored."

"What? What does that mean?" Peter asked, sitting up and grabbing the doctor's arm.

"Lie down, young man. Relax. It shall be restored." The doctor broke Peter's grasp on his arm, which wasn't hard, since Peter's hands were shaking. "I'm sorry. I can't…" The doctor shook his head, then turned from the patient and started out of the room.

"You won't get away from me so easily," Gabriel said, grabbing the man's arm. "What's going on here?"

"I can't—I can't tell you," the older man stammered, looking away from Gabriel.

"You can, and you will," Gabriel insisted. He slammed the doctor against the wall. "I'll make you tell me," he growled, raising a hand.

"I can't tell you what I don't know!" the elderly doctor exclaimed, frustration and fear mingled in his voice.

"You'll tell me, or--"

"Gabriel, no!" Phoebe reached out and caught hold of his arm. "He's telling the truth." She swallowed hard as Gabriel turned his eyes on her, and she saw violence there. "He's telling the truth," she repeated firmly, quietly, trying to stay calm.

Gabriel stared at her for a moment, then at the doctor, whose face had gone completely white. Finally, he released the man and took a deep, ragged breath. "Go," he told the doctor.

The doctor slipped out of the room without another word.

"I'm—I'm sorry," said Gabriel, looking down at his hands. "I lost it there…"

Phoebe removed her hand from his arm. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"It's not okay. Something's not right here." Gabriel glanced quickly at his brother. "Peter, we've got to get you out of here."

As soon as he had spoken those words, a man in a white coat followed by a woman with a blood pressure cuff in her hands swept into the room. "What's all this talk of leaving?" the man asked brightly. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a neat haircut, a clean-shaven chin, and small blue eyes. "We're here to check on this guy." He nodded toward Peter.

"It's about time," said Gabriel, crossing his arms.

"So, tell me your name, pal," said the newest doctor, sitting in the chair Phoebe had earlier vacated.

"It's Peter. Peter Petrelli," Peter told him hoarsely. His face had gone pale again. Phoebe found herself subconsciously moving closer to his side.

"I'm Dr. Hart," said the man in the white coat. "And we're going to help you get well." His words made Phoebe frown. There was something behind them… Something false…

"Looks like you're in pretty bad shape, so we're going to go ahead and roll you into ICU," said Dr. Hart genially. He motioned to the woman behind him. "Mara? Do you mind giving me a hand with his bed?"

As the doctor and the nurse began to roll Peter out of the room, Gabriel remarked, "It's about time you people did something."

"Don't worry, sir," said Dr. Hart. "We'll take good care of him." He smiled brightly.

Phoebe suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Her vision blurred for a split second. "No!" she exclaimed suddenly. "That's not true! They won't!" She rushed forward and grabbed the side of the hospital bed. "Let go!"

Gabriel stepped forward with a frown. "Phoebe--?"

"They _won't_ take good care of him!" Phoebe exclaimed, her voice hoarse with panic. "We can't let them take him!"

"She's just distraught," said Dr. Hart patiently.

Peter lifted his head, his eyes wide with fear. "Gabriel?"

"Peter, don't worry. I won't let them take you!" Phoebe told him, positioning herself between Peter and the doctor and nurse.

Dr. Hart looked to Gabriel, his impassable expression cracking slightly. "Sir, if you'd just take her aside, please. The trauma of whatever accident this young man was involved in must have affected her deeply. She's distraught."

"No she's not," Gabriel said quietly, stepping forward. "She can tell that you're lying."

Hart hesitated for a moment, then smiled tightly. "Sir, I don't know what you're—"

"Oh yes you do," said Gabriel, taking hold of the hospital bed and jerking it out of the hands of Hart and Mara.

Phoebe reached out and grabbed hold of Hart's arm, wrapping her fingers around his bare wrist.

"Hey! What are you--?"

She saw it, then the truth. She saw him receiving the message from Pinehearst, the message to be on the lookout for Peter and Gabriel, the message to bring them back to Arthur Petrelli. With a gasp, she released his arm. "He's a spy," she told Peter and Gabriel quickly and breathlessly. "We have to get Peter out of here!"

"Not so fast," said Mara, who had until now been silent. She stepped to the side of the bed and placed one hand on Peter's chest. "We're taking him. Don't even try to stop us." Her eyes were a dark, dark blue, almost black in color, and something about them made Phoebe's skin grow cold.

Phoebe shook her head tightly and reached to grab the other woman's hand. Suddenly, a wave of energy burst out from the nurse, sending Phoebe stumbling backward—away from the bed, away from Peter. As she righted her balanced, she noticed with horror that a huge bubble was forming around Peter, Hart, and Mara--a force-field.

"Let me go!" Peter shouted, suddenly sitting up and shoving Mara backward. The woman went down, and the bubble burst. Peter slid to his feet and backed away from Hart and Mara, stumbling into the arms of Gabriel.

"Come on!" Phoebe shouted, tugging on Gabriel's shirt. "Let's _go_!"

Practically dragging Peter along, Gabriel followed Phoebe as she ran down the hall.

"Which way is the exit?" Phoebe called back to the brothers as they approached an intersection of hallways.

"I don't know!" Gabriel shouted in reply, glancing over his shoulder. Hart and Mara were nowhere to be seen.

As they reached the intersection, Phoebe slowed her pace, glancing right and left. To the left, she spotted a sign that read "EXIT." "Left!" she called over her shoulder. "Come on!"

They were halfway down the hall when Gabriel called to Phoebe. "Hang on!"

Phoebe stopped running and spun around, her heartbeat thudding violently in her chest. "What is it?"

Gabriel looked at her with worried eyes. "Peter," he said simply. Gently, he helped his brother sit down on the floor against the wall. Peter's face was flushed, and he was panting desperately, as if breathing was a nearly impossible task.

"Phoebe—Take care of Peter," Gabriel ordered, striding to her side and grabbing hold of her upper arms.

"What!?" Phoebe exclaimed, eyes wide. "Where are you going?"

"We can't keep running like this. _Peter_ can't keep running like this," said Gabriel intensely. "I have to stop them from following us."

Phoebe saw the wisdom in his words. She nodded quickly, trying to stay calm. "Okay. Okay. But be careful."

"You, too," said Gabriel. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, then back to Phoebe. "You have a gun, don't you?"

She nodded and patted the left side of her jacket. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

"Good," said Gabriel. "You might have to." He flashed her a brief smile, then turned and ran back down the hall.

Phoebe quickly made her way to Peter's side, kneeling beside him on the cold floor. "Peter, what can I do?" she asked, gently touching his shoulder.

Still gulping in air, he reached out and took her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. "Just—just stay," he told her, his eyes fixed on her own.

Phoebe was abruptly struck by the intensity of his gaze. It touched something deep within her. She slid down beside him on the floor, gently sliding an arm around his shoulders. "I'll stay," she told him quietly.

Coughing, Peter laid his head on her shoulder. "He can—he can handle them," he managed between coughs and ragged breaths. "And then we'll get out of here."

Phoebe sensed definite truth in the "he can handle them" part, but the "we'll get out of here" part… That was still wavering between truth and falsehood. "I hope so," she said, leaning her head on Peter's.

"So you know my mom?" Peter managed, his hand tightening around Phoebe's.

Phoebe smiled wryly. "Yeah. I know your mom."

The sudden sound of shoes slapping the floor made Phoebe jerk her head up. She quickly released Peter's hand, keeping one arm around his shoulders, and reached into her jacket, her fingertips brushing the cold metal handle of the pistol Matt had given her. She waited with bated breath as a shadow appeared on the floor, stretching longer and longer as the footsteps grew closer. Her breath released in a sigh of relief as a little boy of about six years old rounded the corner.

At first, the boy did not seem to see Peter and Phoebe sitting there on the floor, then he stopped walking and turned to stare at them. Phoebe noticed that his eyes were a vivid shade of cerulean blue.

"Hello," said Phoebe tentatively.

The boy gave her a small wave, then began to approach her. "Why isn't he in a bed?" he asked her curiously, pointing to Peter.

"I'm taking him home so he can get well," Phoebe told the child vaguely.

To Phoebe's surprise, the boy crossed the hall and crouched right in front of Peter. "My name is Jason," the child told Peter, tilting his head to the side to study him. "What's yours?"

"I'm Peter," Peter said hoarsely, smiling crookedly at the little boy. "Peter Petrelli."

Jason nodded his blond head. "I thought so," he said quietly. He reached out and placed a hand on Peter's bruised cheek, staring deeply into Peter's eyes. "I'm supposed to give these back to you," he said matter-of-factly.

"What are you doing to him?" Phoebe asked, trembling inside at the oddness of the situation and at the truth emanating from the child. Everything that was happening was suddenly too powerful and profound.

Jason glanced at her with a half smile. "Don't worry. It won't hurt him _too_ bad. And he'll be better."

To Phoebe's surprise, Peter seemed to understand the meaning behind Jason's words. "I'm ready," he said quietly.

"Okay," said Jason. The little boy narrowed his blue eyes in concentration on Peter's face. "Here you go."

A sudden, visible tremor ran through Peter's body.

"Peter?" Phoebe squeezed his shoulder.

But he did not seem to hear her. He threw his head back and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"What did you do?" Phoebe asked Jason as the little boy stood slowly.

"I restored," said Jason with a slight smile. "He'll be okay. I used to worry that they wouldn't. It must feel kind of weird or something. Bye."

Phoebe watched with overwhelmed eyes as the child turned and walked back around the corner, out of sight. Then she quickly turned her attention to Peter, who was silent, his head leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. "Peter?" She gently grabbed onto his shoulders. "Peter, are you all right?"

Suddenly, Peter gasped, his eyes flying opened.

"Peter!" Phoebe exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"They're back!" Peter cried, holding up his hands. "I can feel it. I--" He grimaced in pain. "Look!" He pulled up his shirt, and Phoebe watched in awe as the dark, angry bruises began to fade. She winced in unison with Peter at the sharp cracking sound that she knew was the sound of his fractured ribs popping back into place.

"Your powers are back," Phoebe breathed, meeting his eyes.

As the cuts and bruises on his face slowly and steadily disappeared, Peter nodded, dark eyes wide. "That little boy… Jason… He gave them back to me."


	4. Tension

Hurray for Heroes! And also for readers, reviewers, and other such nice people. I appreciate you all!

"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life."--Winston Churchill (my slightly distant cousin, actually)

Chapter Four

As Gabriel came jogging around the corner, Peter practically jumped to his feet, reaching down to pull Phoebe up to his side. The elder brother's jog screeched to a halt as his brown eyes clouded with confusion. "Peter? What--?"

"I'll explain later," said Peter quickly. "I sense someone coming. We've got to get out of here."

Gabriel nodded. "This way," he said, starting off toward the exit at a quick pace. "I've slowed them down, but that won't last forever."

Peter looked to Phoebe, smiling slightly. "Come on," he said, taking her hand.

Phoebe ran with him down the hall, stunned into silence. There was a strength about Peter now, a confidence, that she found suddenly and shockingly… attractive. She shook her head as she trailed behind Peter, trying not to think of the strength and warmth of his hand or the graceful, athletic way his body moved when he ran. _There's no time for you to have a silly crush, Phoebe… Not until we're safe…_

"We're almost out!" Gabriel called back breathlessly to Peter and Phoebe as he neared the front doors of the hospital reception room, a room that was oddly empty and silent.

"They're closing in!" Peter called ahead to him. "I can hear their thoughts!"

Phoebe suddenly slid on a slick spot of the floor. One foot slipped forward and the other slipped backward, and her free arm flailed wildly.

Peter's strong arms were suddenly wrapped around her waist, and with superhuman strength, he hoisted her over his shoulder. "I've got you," he told her as he continued to run.

Eyes wide, Phoebe clung to his shoulder. "Don't drop me!" she shrieked, white-faced.

Peter laughed wryly. "I won't."

"Stop right there!" cried a harsh, high-pitched female voice.

Phoebe lifted her head. She could see Hart and Mara standing in the opening to the hallway. Mara's arm was raised.

Gabriel suddenly cursed, and Phoebe turned her head to see what was the problem. "Oh no," she muttered, going cold inside. A force field had risen up in front of the hospital doors. They were trapped in the lobby!

* * *

Nathan leaned closer to the guard, narrowing his eyes on the man. "Excuse me? His other _two_?" He shook his head, frowning. "I think you must be mistaken. Arthur Petrelli only has two sons, and I'm one of them."

The guard shrugged. "Well that's what I heard. One of his sons came here looking for him, then the other one came looking for his brother. Seems to me they left earlier today."

Nathan felt an unpleasant chill run up his spine. "What were--what were… Do you remember their names?"

The guard frowned up at Nathan. "I don't think I should be telling you all this."

"You'll tell him," said Tracy, stepping forward, arms crossed, "Or else."

"Or else what?" the guard asked, suddenly brave again.

"Or else this," said Tracy. She placed a hand on the counter and froze a pen that had been lying there, then picked up the pen and shattered it easily.

The guard's eyebrows raised. "So you're one of _them_."

"Uh-huh," said Tracy, smiling coldly. "And _you're_ going to answer Nathan's questions."

"What were their names?" Nathan repeated, his lips twitching with a repressed smile.

"Well the one who got here first… I think his name was Peter," said the guard, keeping his eyes on Tracy. "The other one kept hollering that at him when they were, uhm, fighting in the hall."

"Fighting in the hall?" Nathan's eyebrows shot up. This was getting more and more ridiculous… But unfortunately, the fighting in the hall part sounded like something Peter would do…

"Uh… Yeah…" said the guard reluctantly, gulping. "I don't think Mr. Petrelli wanted them to leave. But they got out anyway. And the one named Peter almost didn't make it out alive. He took some pretty bad hits from some of the other guards."

Nathan winced. "I see." And that also sounded like Peter. "Did he--did he display any… unusual abilities?"

"Nope," said the guard. "Can't recall that he did."

Nathan frowned. Now that was unusual. Why hadn't Peter used his powers in the escape?

"But the other one did," the guard continued, finally looking away from Tracy and meeting Nathan's eyes.

"The other one." Nathan tried to remain calm, tried to breathe evenly. What other secrets could his mother have hidden from him? "Who is he?"

The guard raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Seems to me you'd know, seeing as you must be his brother."

"Just tell me," Nathan growled.

"Goes by the name of Gabriel Gray, I think," said the guard casually, oblivious to the effect his words were having on Nathan. "And sometimes, they called him Sylar."

Nathan's knees suddenly felt weak. He leaned heavily on the counter. "S-Sylar?"

"That's right." The guard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Is that all, sir?"

Nathan cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. "No. That's--that's not all. I insist on seeing Arthur Petrelli. _Now_, if you don't mind."

* * *

Matt Parkman had still not made up his mind. He stood in one of the hallways of Primatech, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, hands in his pockets. Should he do as Noah had first suggested and watch over Phoebe while Phoebe watched over Peter and Gabriel? Or should he travel to Pinehearst to offer his aid to Nathan Petrelli, who obviously had no clue what he was getting into?

He remembered then that Noah Bennet was going to Pinehearst. Surely Noah would look after Nathan.

Matt frowned.

Did anyone ever really know what Noah Bennet was going to do next?

Matt took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. He had to trust that Noah could look after Nathan, Claire, and Tracy. Because Matt had decided that he had to look after the others.

* * *

Peter gently set Phoebe down on her feet, then moved to place his body between her and the two villains who were stalking into the lobby.

"You're good, Sylar," said Hart, panting. He smirked, then, his small eyes nearly disappearing into his high cheekbones. "But you're not as good as us."

"The name is Gabriel," Gabriel announced calmly, standing beside Peter. "And are you sure I'm not as good as you? Because I could swear I saw a vision that the three of us are going to make it out of this hospital alive."

Peter glanced quickly at his brother, wondering whether or not Gabriel was bluffing. Then he glanced at Phoebe. _She_ didn't have to wonder.

"Just shut up and come with us," Hart snapped.

"That's not on our agenda for the day," said Gabriel calmly, stepping forward.

"Peter… Peter…" Phoebe was tugging frantically on Peter's arm. "We need to just get out of here. One of you needs to break down that force field, and the three of us need to--"

"Stay back, Phoebe," Peter told her firmly, moving to Gabriel's side.

Phoebe gritted her teeth and stomped her foot. "I'm your _bodyguard_. Let me _protect_ you!"

The brothers ignored Phoebe and stepped even closer to Hart and Mara.

"Peter, you can't let them find out you have your powers back," Gabriel hissed to the younger brother, keeping his eyes fixed on the two villains.

"I won't let you fight them alone," said Peter stubbornly.

Gabriel glanced at Peter. The younger brother's eyes had that intense, determined look that Gabriel had seen so many times before. "Peter--"

"Time is up, gentlemen," Mara announced, stretching out her hands toward the two brothers. Suddenly, the force field moved from the doors of the hospital and wrapped itself in a ring around Peter, Gabriel, and Phoebe. "You're coming with us whether you like it or not."

"I don't think so," said Peter, narrowing his eyes on the nurse. "Come on." He reached out and grabbed hold of Gabriel's arm.

Gabriel frowned. "What--?"

Peter walked right through the force field, dragging Gabriel along with him. He faced Mara and Hart with his chin lifted.

"What!?" exclaimed Hart. "He's supposed to be powerless!"

"Surprise," growled Peter. Blue sparks began to flicker above his hand.

"Don't come any closer!" snapped Mara.

"Give me one good reason," Peter replied, his eyes dangerously dark.

"How about this?"

There was a whooshing sound, and Phoebe screamed. Peter and Gabriel spun around just in time to see the force field wrap itself around Phoebe's face.

(LINE)

The girl could remember little but this darkness. It enveloped her, cold and suffocating, blocking her from anything outside of itself.

The girl drew her knees up to her chest, whimpering as she wrapped her arms around them. "Please… Someone… Anyone…" Teeth chattering, she lowered her head to her knees. "God, please…"

Something came to her then, a memory of a face and a voice, of warm brown eyes and a shy smile. With the memory of the smile came the name.

"Gabriel," the girl whispered, raising her head. "Gabriel will rescue me."

* * *

_Peter will rescue me. I have to stay calm. Peter will rescue me. Oh, God, please! I can't breathe!_

Phoebe's vision was beginning to blur, her airways tightening, her lungs burning. She clawed at the bubble wrapped tight to her face, but her efforts were useless. Dizzy, she dropped to her knees, spots winking on her vision as her body starved for air.

"Let her go!" she heard Peter shout.

"Hang on, Phoebe!" called Gabriel.

She wanted to cry in reply, "I can't! I can't!" But she could not even do that. Instead, she collapsed to the ground, fighting to stay conscious as her body fought to survive without air.

* * *

"Phoebe!" Peter shouted, flinging his hand toward her. With telekinesis, he ripped the force field from her face, smiling in relief at the sound of her deep gulp of air.

Suddenly, pain shot through his body. He cried out in shock, staggering, spinning to face Hart and Mara.

Hart stood pointing a finger at Peter, grinning. "Nerve manipulation is certainly a handy skill to have," he proclaimed proudly.

"So is this," said Gabriel, raising a hand toward Hart. The doctor went flying backward, slamming hard into the wall.

Mara took a step backward, drawing her force field closer to herself to form a wall between her and the brothers. "This isn't over," she spat, glaring. "We'll meet again."

* * *

"So did you see any… unusual persons exit the train?" Matt asked one of the Westbrook station workers as they stood on the platform of the station.

"No. Not today." The tall, skinny man shook his head. "Sometimes there are hobos or drifters or high school kids looking to have fun hitching rides, but… Not today."

Matt sighed. "Thanks anyway," he told the man before turning and walking back toward his car. He had hit a dead end; that was for sure. Shaking his head, he unlocked his car and sat heavily in the driver's seat, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

"Excuse me!"

Matt looked up. An older man in a white coat was rushing through the train smoke and mist. "What's the matter?" Matt asked, frowning.

"Are you Matt Parkman?" the man asked quickly, breathlessly.

Matt blinked. "Who wants to know?"

"I have a message for you," said the man, panting. "I can help you find Peter Petrelli and Gabriel Gray."

* * *

"Peter, are you all right?" Gabriel asked, looping a steadying arm through his brother's.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Peter insisted, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I just--Phoebe!" He broke from Gabriel's protective grasp and ran to where Phoebe still laid on the ground, sliding to his knees beside her. "Phoebe, are you okay?"

Phoebe sat up, coughing. "I'm all right," she asserted. "Where did they go?" She motioned with a shaky hand toward the empty hallway.

"I don't know," said Peter, helping her to her feet. "But we're getting out of here."

* * *

The Pinehearst guard was finally taking Nathan seriously. "Uhm, I'm sorry, but Mr. Petrelli is in a meeting right now. He won't be out for another--" He glanced at his wristwatch. "--thirty minutes."

"Can't this meeting be interrupted?" Nathan asked, fighting with everything he had to stay calm.

"Sorry, sir. It's very important. But as soon as thirty minutes are up… I'll let you in to see him." The guard tried on a tight smile. It didn't fit.

"I guess we'll have to wait, then," said Nathan, turning to Tracy.

They crossed the lobby to a where padded benches were set up under sweeping glass windows, and there they sat.

"I'm sorry your life is going crazy," Tracy said, taking Nathan's hand.

"Me, too," said Nathan tightly, not meeting her eyes. "And I'm sorry about--about your life, too."

"I'm not," said Tracy, lifting her chin. "You saved it."

Nathan met her eyes, then, and he grinned ever so slightly. "That's right. Maybe I'm not totally worthless then."

"Maybe not," said Tracy with a smile.

Across the lobby, the guard's phone rang and he hurriedly answered it. Nathan watched with detached curiosity as the guard's expression changed. _Poor guy looks like he's getting harangued…_ Then the guard's eyes turned to Nathan and Tracy. Nathan frowned. _Why the heck is he--?_

"Sir?" The guard covered the speaker of the phone and motioned to Nathan with his other hand. "Sir? Mr. Petrelli says he'll see you now."

Nathan blinked. "Good. Thanks." He stood and glanced at Tracy. "That was an awfully fast thirty minutes," he told her quietly as they approached the guard's counter. "Something's up. Something's gotta be up."


	5. Impending Something

Thanks for all the feedback, everyone! In "It's Coming," currently the most recent episode of Heroes, some things were done that I had already planned to do with my story, so... I'm going to go ahead and maybe do them in chapters to come... Anyways, much Heroes love to all! And to _Storm Clouds Gathering _readers, I've actually started working on the next chapter, so... It might get updated soon.

"...truth is never vain. It turns strangers into lovers and enemies to brothers..." --"Without You Here" (Goo Goo Dolls) This quote really, _really_ fits this story.

Chapter Five

"Company car, eh?" Gabriel remarked with a raised eyebrow as they neared the silver sedan the Company had provided for Phoebe.

Phoebe nodded. "Yes. And here I thought I'd seen the last of those…"

"Do you know Noah Bennet?" Gabriel asked her as they reached the sleek vehicle.

Phoebe sighed. "Yes. He trained me in the ways of the Company, if you must know." She grimaced slightly, reaching into the pocket of her pants to fumble around for her keys. "And your mother had a hand in that, too." She pushed the unlock button on the remote keyless entry pad and walked around to the driver's side of the car. "So… Who's riding shotgun?"

In unison, Peter and Gabriel reached for the front passenger side door handle and said, "I will." Then they blinked and stared at each other.

_Dang it_, thought Phoebe. _I should have just picked one of them._

Gabriel stepped back from Peter, glancing between his brother and Phoebe. Then he grinned slowly and inclined his head to Peter. "Your turn," he said quietly.

Peter smiled slightly, crookedly. "Thanks, man." Then he opened the door and slid into the seat.

Gabriel caught Phoebe's eye over the top of the car and winked before quickly getting into the backseat.

Phoebe stood outside her door for a minute, trying to figure out what had just happened. The truth turned out to be multi-faceted. Gabriel was trying to prove to Peter that he was a changed man by acquiescing. And he was also… Phoebe blushed and quickly opened the car door. Gabriel was also playing matchmaker.

"We'll have to find Jason," Peter announced as Phoebe cranked up the car.

"Jason?" Gabriel asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"The little boy who gave me back my powers," Peter explained, turning in his seat to face his brother. "If Dad finds out that there's someone out there who can undo what he's done…"

The three heroes looked at each other with wide, worried eyes.

"And it's all my fault," said Peter, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest. "They know that I have my powers back now. They'll go after Jason."

"You saved my life, Peter," said Phoebe, pulling quickly out of the empty parking lot of the hospital. "I'm _glad _you used your powers. Now maybe we should--maybe we should use them to protect Jason."

"I can find him," said Peter, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. "And we can make sure he's okay."

* * *

They were on their way to find Jason. Peter had used the little girl Molly Walker's ability. Gabriel felt a pang of guilt, dark and heavy in his heart. He had killed that child's parents… Shaking his head, he settled back into the seat. He had to let things go. He was not a killer. It was the hunger that was part of his ability that killed. Not him. Not Gabriel Gray…

A smooth, poignant soft rock song drifted from the speakers of the Company car.

Gabriel was tired. The music was not helping.

The last thing he heard before falling asleep was Peter saying to Phoebe, "I think Jason's moving. This might be a long ride."

* * *

"Gabriel! Gabriel!"

She was calling his name, the girl in the basement. Whoever she was. Something about her voice was so familiar, and the taste of it was pleasant, yet bittersweet.

"I don't know who I am!" she called.

He ran on and on down the corridors. They kept tilting and moving, like part of a fun-house at a fair. "I'm coming!" he shouted, staggering into a wall.

"It's so cold and so dark, and I'm missing something… everything! Oh, Gabriel, please hurry!"

And then the dream shifted, changed, calmed.

Gabriel watched as his mother walked through a park, holding a small, dark-haired child by the hand. The child, perhaps five years of age, turned and stared at Gabriel.

"Peter," Gabriel whispered.

The eyes were large and intense, hazel-brown in color. The child smiled crookedly, then turned his attention to his mother, who was bending down to speak to him.

"Peter, make sure you are a good boy," Angela told little Peter.

"I _am _agood boy," Peter told his mother with conviction.

A tall, blond-haired woman was approaching Angela and Peter. In her arms, she held a little girl of about two years of age. The girl-child was adorable, with long, straight blond hair and round eyes of indeterminable color. Her mother set her down in front of Angela and Peter.

"Angela!" The blond woman embraced the brunette. "It's so good to see you! My, how Peter has grown."

"If you think _I'm _big, you should see my brother," said Peter seriously. "Nathan is _this _tall." He stretched one arm up as high as it would go.

"He's right," said Angela, patting Peter's head indulgently. "Nathan is growing, as well. And he's making such good grades in school."

"That's good to know," said the blond woman. "Smart as a whip, is he? Gets that from his mother, I'd say."

"And his father, as well," said Angela. She bent down and placed her hands on Peter' shoulders. "Go on and play, Peter," she told him with a smile. Then, she turned and looked intently at the little blond girl, who was standing there staring at Peter with awe and curiosity. Angela smiled slowly, then turned back to her youngest son. "And make sure you take care of Phoebe."

* * *

Nathan and Tracy were approaching the guard's desk when suddenly, Noah Bennet burst into the lobby.

"I suppose you've come for Claire, too," said Noah.

"Yes. And I have to speak to my father," said Nathan, narrowing his eyes on the other man as Noah drew near.

"That may not be the best of ideas right now," Noah replied, frowning. "As a matter of fact, it's practically suicidal. It would be best if you just let me handle this. Wait here." He patted Nathan's shoulder condescendingly. "I'll go find Claire."

"Hang on just a minute, Bennet." Nathan shoved Noah's hand away. "She's _my _daughter, too. I want to help--"

"Nobody move."

Nathan, Noah, and Tracy all turned to see the guard aiming a pistol at Noah.

Nathan's eyebrows shot up. "What's going on here?"

"I have orders not to let _this _man--" He nodded to Noah. "--ever get past me."

Noah seemed incredibly calm, as if he had lived his entire life in crossairs. He raised his hands and spoke evenly. "Look, just put down the gun, and you won't get hurt."

"No!" the guard exclaimed nervously. "Get out and _you _won't get hurt."

"Should have listened to me," said Noah, shaking his head.

CLUNK! Something struck the guard's head from behind, and he pitched forward, crashing into the counter before slumping to the ground.

"Good work, Daphne," said Noah with a wry smile.

Daphne popped up from behind the counter, brandishing a paperweight. "No problem."

"You--you didn't _kill _him, did you?" asked Tracy, grimacing.

"No." Daphne shrugged. "But he'll be out for awhile."

"Dad?"

Everyone turned to see Claire Bennet rushing into the lobby from one of the doors on the far side of the room. She was staring at Noah.

"Claire, you need to come with me," said Noah, stepping toward her. "This place is dangerous."

Claire took a step back, frowning and shaking her head. "I can't!" She looked to Nathan, then, eyes widening. "What--what are you doing here?"

Nathan shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Same as him." He nodded toward Noah. "Looking for you. And also… Looking for your grandfather."

"What? My grandfather?"

"Just come on, Claire. I'll explain everything later," Noah said tightly.

"I can't leave yet," Claire told him, fairly stomping her foot. "I have to find Elle first."

* * *

Gabriel's eyes shot open and were instantly stabbed by brilliant orange rays of light. Groaning, Gabriel threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the angry light. "Sun must be setting," he muttered to no one in particular.

"It is," said Phoebe, glancing back at him with a quizzical expression. "Gabriel… Any messages from your mom?"

He hesitated. Had that strange dream indeed been a message from Angela? Or had it been something else? He steadily met the round green eyes, the eyes he had so recently seen in the face of a toddler. "I'm not sure," he told her honestly. "I had a strange dream."

"Looks like Peter is having one right now," Phoebe remarked, glancing toward the passenger seat.

Peter was slumped against the passenger door, mouth slightly opened, brow furrowed as if in concentration.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. Sleeping, Peter resembled very strongly the child-Peter from his dream.

"We should probably wake him," said Phoebe, her voice oddly shaky. Looking at her in the rearview mirror, he saw worry in her eyes.

Gabriel frowned. "Why?"

"Something's wrong with the car," said Phoebe quietly.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel asked.

"I don't know," Phoebe replied quickly. "The wheel keeps vibrating… And there's a funny sound whenever I make a turn. I'm worried."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Why was she so upset by simple car trouble?

"This is a Company car, Gabriel," she told him, as if reading his mind. "It should be in perfect condition. It doesn't even have ten thousand miles on it. Something's not right…"

Then it hit him. Sabotage. "Pull over. I see what you mean."

Phoebe nodded. "Thought you might."

As Phoebe steered the car into a nearly empty parking lot, Gabriel reached up front and gently shook Peter's shoulder. "Hey. Peter. Wake up."

Peter stirred and stretche. "Nathan?" he asked faintly.

A twinge of pain flashed through Gabriel's psyche unexpectedly. "No. It's Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Peter frowned as he slowly opened his eyes and turned around. Awareness lit up the golden-brown irises. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, man."

"No problem. Uh… We're having car trouble," Gabriel told him.

Peter glanced at Phoebe, who nodded tensely, then turned his eyes back to his brother. "Crap," he said simply.

"Gabriel, you have that 'knows how things work' power, don't you?" Phoebe asked, turning to face him. "Can you find out what's wrong with the car?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "I don't want to use that particular power right now," he said quietly, carefully modulating his voice. "I'm sure Peter understands why."

Phoebe looked to Peter, who met her eyes with a distraught look. She decided not to ask why. "O-kay. Uhm…" She looked through the windshield and winced. Smoke was steaming from under the hood of the car. "I'll just get out and take a look at that." She reached for the door handle, but before she could pull it, a hand settled on her arm. She turned and met warm, intense eyes.

"Stay here. I'll do it."

Phoebe smiled slightly. "You sure, Peter?"

Peter grinned crookedly. "I'm sure."

Phoebe lightly touched his hand. "Thanks."

* * *

Peter Petrelli swiftly realized two things. One: He was ridiculously attracted to Phoebe Agnew. And Two: He knew nothing at all about cars. At least, not about their engines… Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, glad that the hood was blocking him from Phoebe's vision, glad that she didn't have x-ray eyes.

Peter bit his lip and shook his head… and also managed to burn his finger when he laid it down on some random engine part. Wincing, he shook his hand and popped his finger into his mouth.

"You okay out there, Peter?" Gabriel called.

"I'm fine… Just… Hold on a minute…"

* * *

"He's trying to impress you, you know."

Phoebe glanced back at Gabriel with one eyebrow raised. "You think so?" She kept her truth-sense at bay. For some reason, she wanted to find out about Peter's motivation like a normal human being.

"You don't have to have a 'truth power' to know what I'm saying is true," said Gabriel smugly, folding his arms over his chest.

Phoebe was beginning to think smugness was a genetic trait that ran thick as molasses in the Petrelli family. Angela, Nathan, Gabriel, Peter… Smug.

An exclamation of "OW!" from outside the car made her wince inwardly. Peter probably wasn't feeling so smug right now…

"I should get out and help him," said Gabriel with a sigh. "That's what a good brother would do, right?"

Phoebe realized with a start that Gabriel was actually asking her. There was no sarcasm behind his words this time. "Yeah. I think a good brother would do that," she told him with a sympathetic smile.

He met her smile with a grateful one of his own. "Thanks." He started to exit the vehicle, then turned and patted her shoulder. "You know what I've done, don't you?"

"I've heard rumors," she answered cautiously.

"And yet you treat me with kindness." He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a moment. "Thank-you."

"You're welcome," said Phoebe quietly.

* * *

Matt Parkman glanced at his passenger with curiosity. The elderly man was thin, with an air of flustered fragility about him. And yet… There was a strength within the brittle frame, something Matt could not yet fathom.

"He was injured pretty badly when they entered the hospital," the man was telling Matt. "The younger man, Peter. But when they left…" He shrugged his bony shoulders. "He was fine. He even made a show of power when the spies tried to stop him."

"The spies?" Matt asked, trying to concentrate on the road and the skinny old man at the same time.

"They took over the hospital," said the old doctor wearily, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. "Not spies really. More like saboteurs…" His eyes suddenly flew opened, and he reached out and gripped Matt's wrist with a shocking intensity. "Mr. Parkman, we need to hurry!" He frowned at the speedometer. "Can't you go any faster than this? You drive like a turtle!"

Matt chuckled. "What's wrong with turtles?"

"I'm serious, Mr. Parkman," the elderly man insisted. "Your friends may be in grave danger!"

Matt felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"

"I mean they're not safe driving that Company car!"

* * *

"Elle?" Noah Bennet's eyebrows shot up. "Arthur has Elle?"

"Yes!" Claire exclaimed, exasperated. "We have to get her out before he--"

"Before I what?"

Everyone turned to face the double doors that were framed by the far left wall as Arthur Petrelli strode into the lobby.

Nathan felt curiously numb as he watched the father he had thought to be dead approach with a confident smirk.


	6. Paths and Motion

I'm back! Thanks to all my faithful readers/reviewers who inspired me to continue. This chapter is something of a bridge chapter, short and sweet, leading up to some major action/confrontations, so... I hope it doesn't disappoint.

We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.--Robert Louis Stevenson

Chapter Six

The passenger side door of the Company car was jerked open, and Peter Petrelli dropped heavily into the seat, lips pressed tightly together, as Gabriel slid into the back. Phoebe looked at Peter with raised eyebrows, trying to be patient. Finally, he turned to her, frowning. "I can't--I can't figure out what's wrong with it. I don't--I don't own a car. So… I…" He shrugged. "I don't know what to do."

"Can't you guys just use your intuitive aptitude just a little bit?" Phoebe asked tentatively.

"No!" Peter and Gabriel exclaimed vehemently.

"Okay." Phoebe held up her hands, feeling strangely nauseated. "We'll have to find some other way to get to Jason, then."

"Wait." Peter held up a hand. "I have an idea."

* * *

"Well, well. Look at this." Arthur clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully. "All my favorite people in one place."

Nathan cringed at the word "favorite." He had heard that word one too many times from his parents. "Well we're leaving now, Dad. Thanks," he said, suddenly stricken by an intense longing to get away from his father. He glanced at the others--Tracy, Noah, Daphne, Claire. "Come on. Let's go."

Tracy's fingers suddenly closed around his arm. "Nathan, he's your father. Maybe you should listen to him."

"He's got plenty of people listening to him, Tracy," Nathan retorted, shooting a glare toward his father. "Let's _go_."

"Maybe you should listen to the girl. She seems to have sense," Arthur remarked.

Tracy met the older man's eyes with a surprised smile.

"Senator Petrelli is right," Noah Bennet spoke up, moving closer to Claire. "We should all leave."

"Not without Elle," said Claire with a stubborn look that reminded Nathan of Peter.

To Nathan's surprise, it was the little blond-haired woman, Daphne, who took action. She reached out and grabbed hold of Claire's arm, then looked to Nathan and gave him a quick nod. Suddenly, she was gone, leaving a rush of wind behind her--and taking Claire with her.

* * *

"You're clear," Phoebe called to Peter from across the road. She shivered, wrapping her jacket tight around her body as she watched Peter attempt to fix the car. It would have been funny… If the situation had not been so dire. She winced as Peter once again threw bolts of electricity into the engine of the car… with no results.

Turning to Gabriel, she asked, "So why don't we just teleport out of here?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, still watching his brother. "I think he has some sort of issues with that particular power. Doesn't like to use it or something." His eyes widened suddenly. "Car's coming," he called to Peter.

Peter flung down the hood of the car with obvious annoyance. "It's no use. Whatever was done to it has stuck."

"I guess we'll have to find another method of transportation," said Phoebe with a sigh as she and Gabriel swiftly crossed the road to join Peter.

Gabriel abruptly looked to the right, down the road. "Here it comes," he said matter-of-factly.

* * *

As soon as they had slowed down, Claire jerked her arm out of Daphne's grasp and spun on the other blonde. "Why did you _do_ that!?" she fairly shrieked, eyes blazing.

Daphne narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "You should be thanking me, cheerleader. I may have just saved your butt."

"Oh yeah? Well do you know what I can do?" asked Claire, glaring.

Daphne shrugged.

"Watch this." Smiling smugly, Claire lifted her hands. With her right hand, she bent back the index finger of her left hand until it made a loud cracking sound. "See that? Broken." She brandished the bent and broken digit in Daphne's face. "Keep watching." The finger suddenly straightened, moving back into place with a pop. "I wasn't in any danger. You didn't have to 'save my butt.'" She frowned suddenly at the placid look on Daphne's face. "What? Not surprised?"

"No," said Daphne simply.

"What!? You already knew!?" Claire exclaimed.

"Uh-huh." Daphne nodded. It was her turn to look smug. "I just couldn't resist giving you a chance to make a fool of yourself."

Claire pressed her lips together, suppressing a scream of rage. "Who are you, exactly? And if you knew about my ability, why did you take me out of there?"

Daphne sighed. "Look, Claire, I really did just save your butt. Do you have any idea what Arthur Petrelli can do?"

Claire suddenly felt uncomfortable. "No…"

"He can take away your precious cellular regeneration," Daphne explained. "So unless you've got some 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' moves or happen to be in tune with the Force, you wouldn't stand a chance against that man."

"Oh." Claire bit her lip, cowed. "Uhm… Sorry. I guess you did kind of save my butt."

"Yeah. I guess I kinda did."

"So… Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Daphne. Daphne Millbrook," said Daphne, with a saucy grin. "And you and I, cheerleader, are going on a little trip."

"What? Where are we going? Do I even get a choice?"

"Nope. No choice." Daphne caught Claire's arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "Ever heard of Matt Parkman? Well we're catching up with him. Won't take much work. He's not the speediest of guys."

* * *

Phoebe could not remember the last time she had taken a bus anywhere. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if she had ever taken a bus…

"Hey! You kids like eighties music?" the stocky, jolly bus driver called back to them.

"Sure. It's fine," Gabriel called in reply.

Phoebe sat between the brothers near the middle of the bus. It was getting dark outside, and Phoebe was growing tired. From the look on Peter's face, so was the youngest Petrelli.

"Sleepy?" Phoebe asked him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Peter turned from gazing out the window and met her eyes with a lopsided grin. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Phoebe blinked. _What the heck is this? Should I say something? Is he going to say something? Is he reading my mind? What kind of deal with the devil did his mom make for him to be born with those beautiful eyes? _

Phoebe's scattered thoughts were cut off by the loud, abrupt beginning of an eighties song. She glanced toward the front of the bus. The driver was blissfully singing along with Toto. Smiling, Phoebe turned back to Peter, but… She sighed and leaned back in her seat, facing forward once again.

Peter Petrelli was asleep.

* * *

Noah Bennet did not like the situation one bit. Daphne, his back up, had left him--fortunately getting Claire to safety--but… He did not trust Nathan and Tracy to stand up to Arthur Petrelli. The man had an uncanny persuasiveness about him. Noah decided that it was time to take drastic action. He reached slowly into his jacket…

"What are you up to this time, Mr. Bennet?" Arthur asked casually, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"Maybe we should listen to him, Bennet," said Tracy.

Noah nearly groaned at the look in her eyes. She was completely swayed by the aura of power put off by the Petrelli patriarch. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ms. Strauss," said Noah through his teeth.

"Why not?" Tracy retorted. She was inching closer and closer toward Arthur.

"Why don't _you_ tell her, Nathan?" Noah asked quickly, hoping to remove attention from himself.

Nathan's eyes were wide. He hesitated. "Tracy, uhm… My father--"

"That's right, Nathan. Your father," said Arthur firmly. "We're family, son. Maybe you should listen to me. Just hear what I have to say, then you can leave if you don't like it."

(LINE)

Nathan could not make up his mind. He knew that his father was behind a number of deaths, that his father was a manipulating, scheming, power-hungry person, perhaps even mad with his hunger for power, but… Arthur did not seem mad as he stood there beckoning to his son.

Power was not always a bad thing. It could be used for good, right? Perhaps Nathan could _pretend_ to join up with his father, then turn around and use all the power and knowledge he would gain to do good. And anyway, Tracy was a smart girl. Surely if she were considering Arthur's proposition--

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, and smoke erupted into the room.

Nathan covered his face with his arm as the smoke billowed up around him, threatening to choke him. He could hear someone coughing raggedly. Trying to breathe easily, he waved one arm in front of him, hoping to either clear away the smoke or come in contact with someone.

A hand shot through the smoke and closed around his wrist, tugging him. Nathan decided to follow whoever it was who had hold of him, hoping that perhaps they knew a way out.

* * *

"Take My Breath Away" was playing again.

And Phoebe was getting tired. She glanced to her left at Peter. He was slumped against the window of the bus, sleeping easily. To her right, Gabriel was also sleeping, leaning his head back against the seat.

Phoebe sighed. She couldn't very well lean on one of them, could she? Biting her lip, she stole another glance at Peter. Wouldn't it be nice to lean her head on his warm, strong shoulder?

"Go ahead."

With a stifled gasp, Phoebe turned quickly to Gabriel. He was watching her with an amused expression. "Go ahead," he said again. "You know you want to."

"What are you talking about?" Phoebe replied, flustered. She looked down at her hands on her lap, hoping to hide the blush that she knew was rising in her cheeks.

"Come _on_." Gabriel nudged her shoulder, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You know what I mean. Go ahead and do it. He won't mind." The former serial killer smiled slowly, crookedly. "In fact, I think he'll like it. You know I'm right."

Phoebe reluctantly met his eyes. "I _am_ tired. You really--you really don't think he'll mind?"

"Would I lie to you?" asked Gabriel, one dark eyebrow raised.

"You might," said Phoebe dryly. "But I'd be able to tell."

"So tell," Gabriel replied. "Am I lying when I say he won't mind?"

Phoebe hesitated. The eighties love song playing loudly in the background distracted her for a moment. Then she sighed. "No… You're not lying."

"Don't be shy, then," said Gabriel.

Phoebe cracked a smile. "If you'll stop bugging me about it…"

"It's a deal," said Gabriel, facing forward. "Who knows? You might take his breath away."


	7. Prelude to Convergence

I know this is a teeny, short little chapter, but I had to get something out. Thanks so much to all of you lovely reviewers who inspired me to continue! This story is so AU by now that I was having trouble thinking of what else to do with it, but thanks to you guys, it lives!

Every truth must be accompanied by some corresponding act.--George McDonald

Chapter Seven

When Peter woke up, he knew instantly where Jason was. But… _Where am _I? He rapidly blinked his eyes and looked around. To his surprise, there was a warm weight on his shoulder. Glancing down, he saw that Phoebe was asleep, resting her head against his shoulder. Peter raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

Blushing lightly, he turned to Gabriel, who was awake. "Uhm… We're headed in the right direction. Just, uh, just tell the driver to, uh, stop at Waterford, and that's where we'll get off."

"Will do, Peter," said Gabriel with a knowing look in his eye.

Grinning crookedly, Peter motioned to Phoebe, who was still asleep, still leaning against him, and gave Gabriel a thumbs up.

Gabriel smiled slowly, cunningly, then shook his head, seeming on the verge of laughter.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Peter decided to go back to sleep. This time, instead of leaning on the window, he leaned his head against Phoebe's.

* * *

"Waterford?" Matt Parkman frowned. "Where the heck is Waterford?"

"In Maryland," said the messenger, raising an eyebrow at Matt. "That's where we'll meet the others."

"How do you know?" asked Matt, peering at the other man.

"Because Angela Petrelli told me," said the tall older man matter-of-factly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Hang _on. How did you do all that? How did you meet the others, talk to Angela, and then find me so quickly?"

The messenger sighed, seemingly annoyed with Matt's endless questions. "I'm a teleporter, that's how."

"A teleporter!?" Matt exclaimed excitedly, grinning. "Like Hiro Nakamura?"

The messenger rolled his eyes. "No. _Not _like Hiro Nakamura. He's a step beyond me. _He _can bend time and space. _I _can bend only space. I don't 'freeze time.' I can't. I just… teleport."

"Oh." Matt sat back in his seat, enlightened. "So… What's your name?"

The messenger nearly cracked a smile, but managed not to. "It's Henry. Henry Hayward."

"Nice to meet you, Henry," said Matt. "Hey, do you think you can go get someone for me?"

"Did I say I could find people?" asked Henry rhetorically. "No. I didn't. I said I could teleport. That's all. Period."

"Maybe _you _can't find her, but I know someone who can," said Matt with a smile.

* * *

The smoke was clearing. Nathan was coughing.

"Who are you? Where are you taking me?" the senator rasped out between coughs.

"We're going with your father." It was Tracy's voice, Tracy's hand.

For a moment, a pang of disappointment shot through Nathan's psyche. For a moment, he wished that Noah or Claire had gotten a hold of him instead. _They _would get him out of Pinehearst. _They _would get him away from Arthur, and Tracy…

"Why?" Nathan coughed out as he allowed himself to be dragged. Better dragged than frozen.

"Don't you see, Nathan? Here's the opportunity you've been waiting for!" Tracy gushed. "Here's your key to the power and prestige you've always wanted."

The smoke was beginning to fade, and Nathan could see that Tracy had led him into a large, elegantly decorated office. Arthur was standing behind the mahogany desk, looking for all the world like a benign father, ready to bestow blessings upon his eldest son.

"Where's Claire?" Nathan asked immediately, yanking his wrist out of Tracy's grasp.

"Unfortunately, her adoptive father managed to spirit her away," said Arthur calmly, shrugging. "But no matter. You and I have plans to make, son. I'm not sure that Claire would have been too happy about those plans."

Dread and curiosity mingled in Nathan's mind. "What--what sort of plans?"

Arthur turned to smile at Tracy. "Why don't you tell him, Miss Strauss?"

* * *

"Stopping at Waterford!" the bus driver hollered over the sounds of the eighties. He hit the brakes with an abruptness that made Gabriel experience a brief impulse toward violence.

The sudden, jerking halt of the vehicle quickly awoke Peter and Phoebe, who swiftly pulled apart as if caught in something scandalous. Gabriel grinned slowly. He had done a good work.

Peter blinked, rubbed at bleary eyes. "We there already?"

"Yes," said Gabriel. "We're there."

"What time is it?" Peter asked, stretching.

Gabriel glanced at his watch. "It's six in the morning. Bright and early."

Phoebe ran a hand through her long, strawberry blond locks. "Peter, do you know where Jason is?" she asked, turning to him, her cheeks still lightly touched by a blush.

"He's just down the street," said Peter. He grinned suddenly. "At a nice little breakfast restaurant."

"Convenient," said Phoebe, smiling.

"Excellent!" Gabriel exclaimed, standing. "I'm famished."

* * *

Daphne was annoyed. Claire could tell.

"Ugh! Where _is _he?" the blond speedster muttered, stamping her foot.

The two girls had searched the halls of Primatech to no avail. Matt Parkman was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe he's looking for you," Claire suggested as they walked out into the parking lot.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Probably. Which means he's probably gone to Pinehearst. Ugh!" She stopped walking and crossed her arms, tapping one foot impatiently. "If so, we can't go after him. We can't go back there. It's far too dangerous."

"What!?" Claire stared at the other girl incredulously. "You're the fastest person on the face of the planet, and _I _can't be injured, and you're saying that it's too _dangerous _for us to go back there?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes on Claire. "Look, cheerleader, one of your dads would _kill_ me if anything happened to you. And being killed isn't at the top of my list of things to do."

Claire lifted her chin. "Nothing can happen to me, so there's no problem."

"Oh yeah? Nothing?" Daphne cocked her head to one side. "How about a bullet to the back of the head?"

Claire winced. "Well, yeah, there's that…"

"Exactly." Daphne turned from her, anxiously scanning the parking lot. "But… We can't…" Her voice and bravado faltered. "We can't leave Matt…"

"You don't have to."

Claire and Daphne spun to face the source of the familiar voice.

There stood Matt Parkman, flanked by Molly and an older man in a white coat.

"Matt!" Daphne shrieked, rushing to hug him.

"Come on! Let's hurry up already!" the older man snapped impatiently. "We have to be in Waterford as soon as possible."

Claire walked to the older man's side, one eyebrow raised. "Waterford? What the heck is in Waterford?"


End file.
